


What Does that Feel Like?

by atallrose32



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Freddie Loundes mention, Hannibal is a massage therapist, M/M, Margot Verger rolling her eyes, Miriam Lass mention, Mischa Lector mention, Tobias Budge mention, Will is a little touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atallrose32/pseuds/atallrose32
Summary: Will Graham has a serious pain in the neck named Jack Crawford.  Will Hannibal be able to ease Will's tensions?
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Back again with another story. I must give a shout out to youtuber voordeel, they make wonderful Hannibal fan videos.

What Does that Feel Like? 

Chapter 1

Will Graham leans his forehead against the chilly white tile wall as hot water pulses onto his swollen shoulder. There’s a faint mold smell coming from the black speckled grout. He closes his eyes to try to forget about needing to add re-grouting the shower to his ever-growing weekend chore list. Will stretches his neck a little, testing movement from side to side. The muscle tightens, objecting to such games. Will takes a deep breath and tries to massage the bulging clump of his trapezius muscle, his fingers failing to pry apart the tangled ball under his skin. Pain races up the side of his neck and kicks his temple. His left eye twitches and waters from the spasm.  
“How am I supposed to work like this?” He asks himself.  
Will hears his phone vibrate. He decides that there’s nothing he can do about this pain in the neck so, he turns the shower off and quickly, as quickly as his sore muscle will allow him, gets dressed. He feels nervous to drive to the crime scene given his limited mobility to fully turn his head. But Jack demands that Will be there. He glances at his bedside alarm clock; 4:03 am blinks dully at him. Will reasons that not many people will be on the road before the sun is even up. Before leaving, he puts on his glasses and applies a thick layer of TigerBalm on the side of his neck. His eyes prickle from the sting of the menthol.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Will drives as carefully as he can, staying five miles per hour below the speed limit, inching out at stop signs before crossing over. The dark is starting to retreat a little, but the roads are misted over. The glare from his headlights casts an eerie glow around the orange road lines reminding Will of phantoms. His muscles are tense with worry and his hands ache from gripping the steering wheel. There aren’t many cars on these tree-lined back roads, but there are plenty of animals leisurely wandering around at this hour, resulting in a couple of close calls, so that by the time he arrives at the scene sweat dapples his brow. He decides to park on the street in front of the victim’s mailbox. There’s a little cluster of butterfly stickers on the door of the mailbox. Will files this detail away for later use in the investigation. He sits quietly in his car, preparing himself to deal with the hurricane of a man, also known as Jack Crawford. Not to mention all the other people that will be there working, staring at Will as if he doesn’t notice. But he does, he notices everything. And those everythings start to pile on his shoulders, and the tops of his feet, and they even nestle their way into his pockets, weighing him down. Until he feels too heavy and each step is a struggle. And right now, Will is struggling with the weight of his eyelids. The drive has really exhausted him. He just wants to close his eyes. Stop struggling against everything. Even if only for just a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A heavy fist bangs against the passenger’s side window, startling Will awake, his heart flutters in his chest like a caged bird. His eyes spring open and focus on a rather annoyed Jack Crawford glaring at him. He adjusts his glasses.  
“You can get your beauty sleep later, it’s time to go,” Jack says.  
Will slowly straightens up to test if he further aggravated his neck while sleeping against the window.  
“Let’s go Graham,” Jack demands impatiently.  
Will nods to appease him and gets out of the car.  
“Rough night? You look like shit and smell,” Jack pauses to sniff at Will.  
Will interrupts Jack before he can say anything else rude, “I’m here Jack. What do you need to show me?”  
“Over here.” Jack starts to walk briskly up the inclined gravel driveway.  
Will has to walk at double his pace to keep up with Jack until they reach the house at the top of the hill. There’s a large oak tree with a tire swing. That detail also gets filed. Jack crouches down to get a better look under the raised front porch.  
“At first we couldn’t locate the family dog. One of the techs found it here,” Jack gestures vaguely under the porch, “tucked away in the back corner. She said it looks like some kind of alter. There’s red candles and symbols drawn with black chalk.”  
“Why do the dogs always have to get murdered?” Will quietly asks.  
“What was that?” Jack responds, looking to his right, where Will should have been. Anger flashes across his face when he sees that Will isn’t crouched next to him. Then he looks behind him, over his shoulder.  
“Just what in the actual fuck are you doing over there, Graham? I need you here and I need you to tell me what you see,” he demands.  
Will shuffles over, absentmindedly rubbing his swollen trap. A couple of techs snicker as he passes. He doesn’t even try to crouch down, instead he sits on the muddied grass, feeling very much like a scolded child. Will doesn’t want to see the disapproving look on Jack’s face. So, he looks past Jack, into the gray void of overcast sky. Days like these always feel like scratchy construction paper is being rubbed against Will’s ears. The droning buzz it too loud and often leads to a cement splitting migraine.  
“Do you need someone to tie your shoes today, Graham? What is wrong with you? I need you focused.”  
Will ignores Jack and leans forward, craning his neck to try to see the alter. He doesn’t get very far before the pain seizes him. Will grimaces. He groans and grabs at the inflamed muscle. Jack sighs and shakes his head. He stands up.  
“Get up.”  
Will hesitates.  
“Come on, get up. You’re no use to me like this.”  
Will stands. The entire left side of his body is numb. He feels unstable. Jack watches him as he deftly reaches into his suit jacket pocket and retrieves a slim black card holder. He quickly files through them, plucking out one, and hands it to Will.  
Will takes the card and reads it. He looks up at Jack with confusion lining his brow.  
“Look I know, I know. But they’ve helped me out plenty of times and a lot of the other guys too. They’re very professional. Ask for Beth. She’s got a solid grip and doesn’t like to gab.”  
“Jack I can’t get a massage.” Will extends the card back to Jack.  
“This isn’t up for discussion. Now, get out of my crime scene and don’t come back until you can work.” Jack turns away from Will and goes to talk to another detective.  
Will stands there for a moment, looking over the card. The place is called Nurturing Hands Massage and the card features a black and white image of a pair of hands cupping a small bird. He checks his watch and doubts they would be open at 6am. He walks back to his car and enters the address in his phone for directions. It’s about an hour drive back the direction he came from. Nurturing Hands Massage is just around the corner and a few blocks away from his home. He decides to try to call them. Why not? He’s already going that direction.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Someone picks up promptly after the first ring.  
“Good morning, Nurturing Hands Massage, how may I help you?”  
Will is surprised and wonders if Jack has bullied this place into pleasant submission, having them be available anytime for his team. He feels ashamed to be associated with this type of behavior.  
“Umm, yes, hello. My name is Will Graham and I was referred here by Jack Crawford.”  
A very short pause that would have gone unnoticed if it wasn’t Will on the line. But Will notices everything.  
“Oh, yes. Wonderful. And what’s troubling you today, Mr. Graham?” She is so cheery for so early in the day.  
“It’s my trap. I think I slept wrong or something. It’s swollen and there’s some pain. I’m even having limited mobility.” Will questions if they will be able to get him an appointment given such short notice.  
“Well that won’t do. It sounds like a very uncomfortable situation. When would you like to book an appointment?”  
“Whatever works for you.”  
She laughs a little. “No Mr. Graham, whatever works for you. We can accommodate you as soon as you are ready.”  
“Is 7:30 this morning okay? Is that too early?”  
“Let me check.” Some quick typing and mouse clicking. “7:30 is perfect. Would you like to schedule with Beth?”  
“Yes, please.”  
“Okay Mr. Graham you are all set for a 7:30 this morning with Beth.”  
“Thank you.” Will can feel the back of his neck heat up, wrapping its fingers around his throat and reaching up to his ears.  
She laughs again. “Oh, you’re very welcome.”  
“No, I mean it. I really appreciate all of this.”  
She pauses. “Okay, well, have a safe drive!” The line disconnects.  
Will looks out the car window and watches Jack mill around the far edges of the crime scene as techs orbit him. This all seems too good to be true. Jack is known to push against boundaries to get what he wants, hell he even managed to get Will a special consultant badge after he was deemed too unstable to be an agent. But this. This is a testament to how long Jack’s reach is. And Will isn’t sure if he likes the implications. He hopes that nothing nefarious is going on. He hopes that this is just some kind of referral program. Will could even stomach if Jack is getting a kick back from the sales, a little cream off the top. On the other hand, what if the owner owed Jack? What if Jack got a tip that they have a secret menu and he decided not to arrest the sex workers if they promised to be available to his team whenever they needed for whatever they needed? Now Will feels like he has no choice but to check it out. He follows the natural curve of the cul-de-sac and leaves the sleepy unassuming development, which will no doubt be shattered by the morning news and the gory details of their neighbor’s murder.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Will drives cautiously since he is still unable to fully turn his head to the side. It probably doesn’t help that his shoulders are tensed up to his ears for nearly the entire drive. Once he pulls into the parking lot and turns the car off, his shoulders relax. He notices that there are only two other cars in the lot. Most likely one for the cheery receptionist and one for Beth, the massage therapist. Will feels embarrassed. He’s made his problem a problem for two other people. Will sighs and reluctantly gets out of the car. He goes to open the glass door to Nurturing Hands Massage but it’s locked. He sees a woman wearing black scrubs saunter over from behind the front desk, unhurriedly, her long red hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. She unlocks the door and holds it open for Will.  
“Good morning Mr. Graham.” Her voice is tense and the pleasantness rings false. This isn’t the same woman he spoke to on the phone.  
“Morning,” Will says as he awkwardly side steps around her to get into the lobby.  
She closes the door behind Will and locks it. This strikes Will as odd and he wants to make a light joke of it but she cuts him off.  
“Please have a seat and Hannibal will be with you shortly.” She goes back to her desk and perches on the edge of her chair, clacking away on the keyboard. She hasn’t looked at Will once.  
If she had, she would’ve seen the color drain from Will’s face. He doesn’t sit down. Will clears his throat to get her attention.  
“I thought I was, I thought I scheduled with Beth?” He stammers.  
“Beth had a family emergency.” An accented voice responds.  
Will sees the receptionist roll her eyes before he turns his whole body toward the voice behind him. Standing before him is a tall and lean man. His straight grey highlighted hair is parted to the side and falls just below his eyebrow. His cheekbones are sharp. He’s wearing a maroon colored short sleeved scrub top with matching pants and supportive looking white sneakers. There’s a bump of toned bicep peeking out from under the hem of the short sleeves. Will is stunned by how handsome this man is.  
“Hello Will,” Hannibal says.  
The receptionist coughs disapprovingly.  
“Mr. Graham.” Hannibal corrects himself. “I apologize for the confusion. Would you like to reschedule with Beth or perhaps with someone with a more feminine touch?”  
Still a little stunned, Will is slow to respond.  
“Umm, no. It’s not a problem,” he manages to say.  
Hannibal nods and smiles a little. “Okay, great. My name is Hannibal and I will be your massage therapist today.” He extends his hand to Will.  
Will shakes Hannibal’s hand and feels how firm his grip is. He swallows dryly. He wants to apologize for wanting an appointment so early in the morning and the potential inconvenience it has caused but he can’t grab the words from his mind to feed to his mouth. Will realizes how long he’s been holding Hannibal’s hand. He lets go. Hannibal motions for Will to follow him down the corridor.  
“We’re in room three which is the second door on the left.”  
Will notices how elegantly Hannibal walks, even in scrubs and sneakers. He opens the door for Will to enter the room first. Then he shuts the door behind himself. They are alone in the dimly lit room where the main feature is a massage table that very much looks like a bed.  
“So, tell me Will,” Hannibal smirks, “what is bothering you today?”  
“I ahhh, I have this muscle knot in my trap. It’s kinda painful and I can’t really turn my head.”  
“Sounds like Jack Crawford pain in the neck syndrome.”  
Will laughs nervously.  
“Is this your first time seeing a massage therapist?” But it isn’t really a question.  
Will’s stomach drops. “Am I that obvious?” Will adjusts his glasses, blocking Hannibal from his view.  
“Nothing to be ashamed of. May I?” Hannibal asks, reaching out to assess Will’s contracted trapezius muscle. Will quickly nods his consent.  
His cool fingertips explore Will’s skin, moving the collar of his shirt out of the way. Will suppresses a grimace. Hannibal’s hand retreats.  
“Your skin is quite hot to the touch and the muscle is practically bulging. Let’s see if we can work this out. Now, I would like you to take off as much clothing as you are comfortable with. But I do recommend that you be bare chested so there’s less friction during the massage. Clothing can rub against skin and can sometimes cause irritation. We’ll start with you laying face up on the table, then we’ll transition to face down. I’ll knock before entering so take your time, I know that shoulder is causing some discomfort.”  
Will nods, he hesitates to fully look at Hannibal, but he forces himself to.  
“Okay, thank you,” he says feeling a little dizzy and uneasy. He can feel his whole body warming up. He can barely look at Hannibal without becoming nervous and now he has to be close to naked in a darkened room with just him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hannibal leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Will stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do.  
I could leave right now. Just sneak out and take the rest of the day off. Maybe some ibuprofen washed down with two fingers worth of whiskey and a nap could fix this muscle thing. But.  
But Will already knows what he’s going to do, what he wants to do. He wants Hannibal to put his hands on his body. He wants to be soothed and comforted. Will wants to see if it’s Hannibal that’s causing this weird butterfly feeling in his stomach or if it’s only nerves. Will strips down to his plain blue boxers, leaving his clothes in a disheveled pile on the only chair in the room with his glasses balancing on the top. He gets on the table and pulls the blanket and sheet up to his chin. He clasps his hands together on his chest and waits. He tries to slow his breathing but the rushing in his ears is too distracting. There’s a light knock on the door. Will fights the urge to jump off the table and leave.  
“Are you ready for me?”  
Will swallows before answering “Yes.” He suddenly feels giddy.  
Hannibal slowly opens the door and enters the room.  
“Are you comfortable?” Hannibal asks as he shuts the door.  
Will swears Hannibal’s accent sounds thicker in the dark.  
“Ahh, yes,” Will says, clearing his throat a little.  
Hannibal further dims the lights. Then he adjusts the leg bolster under Will’s knees. He clicks on the table warmer.  
“There, that should be better.”  
Will lifts his head a little to watch Hannibal. He notices that he now has a holster belt holding a couple of bottles.  
“Since this is your first time, I would like to make a recommendation,” Hannibal says.  
“Okay,” Will says, unsure of where this is going.  
“I prefer oil to lotion. I find that it nourishes the skin better. I make my own potion of sweet almond oil with lavender and peppermint essential oil. I always use a warm steamed towel to wipe off the excess so that the oil doesn’t transfer to your clothing. Does this sound acceptable to you?”  
“I’m at the mercy of your expertise,” Will says.  
Hannibal grins a little.  
“Would you like if I talk you through the process?”  
“Yes,” it comes out more breathless than Will intended.  
“First, I will establish my touch to your body. I start on the tops of the feet and work my way up.” Hannibal does exactly as he says, starting at Will’s feet, then his ankles and knees, working up to the tops of his thighs and the outside of his hips. His pressure is firm. He stops. This is usually the part where he works his way up the client’s arms and then to their pectorals. However, Will is tightly grasping the blanket and sheet that’s pulled all the way up to his chin.  
“You look like you’re neatly tucked in for a bedtime story,” Hannibal says.  
“You got any good ones that can replace these nightmares I’ve been having?” Will shakes his head, unsure of why he said that.  
“May I move this lower?”  
Will nods and closes his eyes. He releases his grip of the protective blanket and sheet, resting his arms at his sides on the table. Hannibal lowers both covers, folding the top edges well below Will’s firm pecs. Much lower than it needs to be. Hannibal is curious about how far he can push Will. Hannibal pumps some oil from one of the holstered bottles into his palm and rubs his hands together to warm them.  
“Now I am going to establish skin to skin contact.”  
Then he firmly places both of his hands on Will’s chest and leans in a little. Even with the warning, Will is still startled by Hannibal’s touch. More precisely, how creamy and delicate his hands feel, as if Will is being caressed by velvet. Hannibal’s hands are warm but cool at the same time which puzzles Will since his hands are always deathly cold and clammy.  
“I’m sorry to startle you,” Hannibal says while pressing on Will’s shoulders.  
Will forces a small laugh. “No, no it’s fine. I’m just nervous. This is the most action I’ve gotten in a while.” Will blushes and corrects himself, “Interaction. I meant social interaction. I’m kind of an introvert.”  
Hannibal works his way down Will’s arms, ending with the tops of Will’s hands.  
“And yet you have the strength to interact with Jack Crawford,” Hannibal says. His hands make their way to the sides of Will’s neck to test out Will’s response to pain. Hannibal firmly kneads Will’s traps.  
Will sharply intakes a breath and opens his eyes wide, inadvertently making direct eye contact with Hannibal.  
“Too much pressure?” Hannibal asks, his voice lowering to a whisper.  
“Yeah, it’s really tender.” Will blinks, holding his gaze steady on Hannibal.  
“Hopefully I can remedy that.” Hannibal switches back to Will’s chest, smoothing his hands across the tense muscle fibers to stretch them.  
Will takes a deep breath in and bites his lip to stifle back a groan of satisfaction. And he hates himself for it. He tightly closes his eyes. He hates how much he enjoys being engulfed in Hannibal’s cologne which smells expensive and like something that is crafted just for him. He hates that he knows how much he needed this; to be touched by someone with no motives, with nothing to gain from him. Nothing to take from him. Jack always acts with an agenda and treats Will like a chess piece. But Will is starting to get tarnished and it’s only a matter of time before Jack replaces him with someone else. Just like he did with Miriam Lass.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Will shoos those unfriendly thoughts away. He wants to enjoy this moment; laying on a warm table with a tall and handsome European man giving him what he’s been missing for some time now. Unconditional personal attention. Hannibal notices that Will has a semi hard erection. A perfectly normal reaction to physical sensation. But Will is like a nervous hungry stray dog caught eating from a dumpster. One sudden movement or loud noise and forget about trying to get him to eat from the palm of your hand. Hannibal wants to play. He wants to gauge just how feral this clever boy is. Hannibal keeps kneading and stretching Will’s tense muscles, his hands moving with practiced precision. Will can feel himself stirring under the sheet. He holds his breath, wishing his arousal away.  
Hannibal senses Will’s discomfort. He wants Will to stay in this moment, to relax and remain comfortable with him. He wants Will to want more than this. And Hannibal would love nothing else than to deny Will gratification, to have him leave here with a throbbing erection that he has to tuck against the waistband of his boxers. He decides to distract him, to get Will talking.  
“So, tell me Will, how long have you worked with Jack Crawford?”  
Will releases his breath. “Oh, not too long. Less than a year.”  
“And what did Jack pull you away from?”  
Will sincerely chuckles this time. “You know Jack well. Teaching. I was a professor at the training academy.”  
“But you proved to be much too clever to be kept in a classroom.”  
“Yeah that’s what Jack thought.”  
“I would have to agree with him,” Hannibal says.  
Will opens his eyes and furrows his brow.  
“I must confess I haven’t been the most honest with you.”  
“Oh really?” Will asks, hoping that Hannibal isn’t one of those gore-whore journalists.  
Hannibal lifts Will’s head with one hand and pinches the muscles at the base of his skull with the other. Then Hannibal gently places Will’s head back on the table.  
“I’ve read all of your papers. You’ve really got a knack for the monsters.” Hannibal runs his fingers through Will’s dense curls, slightly pulling the ends before releasing.  
Hannibal watches Will’s eyes widen, and his pupils dilate from the pleasurable sensation.  
“When I got the notification that you would be needing assistance today, I happily volunteered.”  
Will’s face clouds over. “You happily volunteered to meet a guy who thinks about killing people for a living?”  
“I find you very interesting.” Hannibal can feel the shift in the room. Will isn’t taking kindly to compliments, most people do. Hannibal realizes that Will may be more difficult to toy with than the average client. He massages his fingertips against Will’s scalp before tugging his hair again, this time closer to the root.  
“Alright, I think I’m done here.” Will starts to get up from the table.  
Hannibal removes his hands. “Have I said something to offend you?”  
Will wants to say everything that’s on his mind right now; how he can’t enjoy one thing without it being ruined by how he thinks, why does this job have to nose it’s way into every fucking aspect of his life, how exhausted he feels all the time, how having an admirer is worse than a journalist trailing your career like a bloodhound. But he can’t unload all of that on this stranger.  
Will sits up, ignoring the blanket and sheet which slide down and pile on his lap. His back is to Hannibal. Will rubs his hands over his face and sighs.  
“Will?” Hannibal presses.  
Will gets off the table and proceeds to pick up his clothes to put on. In a few short steps Hannibal is behind him. He places a reassuring hand on Will’s shoulder, the one that isn’t bulging from tension. Will stops moving.  
“I think I should explain myself. I’m not a journalist, nor am I an awkward fanboy. I’m a colleague. I used to consult for Jack. I’m a psychiatrist. Was, I suppose is more accurate since I am no longer practicing.”  
Will scrunches his face in anger. He turns around to look at Hannibal, breaking from Hannibal’s grasp.  
“Are you here to analyze me? Did Jack pull in a favor? Is that what this is?” Anger drips from Will’s words like acid.  
“No, that’s only a coincidence, I promise. Jack doesn’t know that I work here. After I stopped consulting for Jack, we lost touch.”  
“That’s Jack for you. He’ll use you all up, take the wind out of your sails and doesn’t give a fuck where you crash land.” Will softens a little.  
“May I persuade you to get back on my table, so that I can put the wind back in your sails? Keep you coasting for a little longer.” Hannibal motions to the table.  
Will nods. “Yeah, okay.” He gets back on the table and lets Hannibal adjust the covers, which he now tucks all the way down below Will’s navel. “I’m sorry I snapped. I’ve got this journalist who’s writing lurid things about me and it’s attracting the wrong kind of people.”  
“Oh yes, I’m well acquainted with the fiery Freddie Lounds.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hannibal re-establishes contact with Will, repeating his actions from earlier to calm him, to get him used to his touch again.  
“Concentrate on your breathing. Take full deep breathes and fully exhale.”  
They sync their breathing. Hannibal can feel some reduction of tension from Will’s body.  
“That’s it. Good job, Will.” Hannibal squirts more oil into his palm and rubs his hands together.  
He smooths his hands across Will’s chest, letting his palms brush over Will’s nipples. Will closes his eyes. He can’t risk a single look at Hannibal while he’s doing this to his body. Hannibal continues down the sides of Will’s body, pressing against his ribs, leaning over his body. Then back up again to repeat this calculated movement twice more. They keep breathing together. Will allows himself to be lulled by this pleasant physical sensation. He can feel himself growing hard again and tries his best to will it away. Hannibal goes for the kill. He starts to massage Will’s temples, working his way to his hair and scalp. Hannibal works his hands down to the back of Will’s neck, gripping the tense flesh there. Will is fully erect now and it’s impressive. Hannibal grins pleased with himself for turning the situation around back to where he wanted it to go.  
Will can feel himself starting to drift, his body feels weightless on the table. His thoughts are more difficult to hold on to. The colored swirls behind his eyes swarm together, creating shapes. He knows the nightmares will start soon if he doesn’t try to stop them. Will recalls back to the lucid dreaming book he just finished, trying to remember any of the tips mentioned. His ears fill with static and he knows that he can’t move his body. Panic fills his lungs. Will can feel flies landing on his face, pushing against his lips to gain entry. They want to fill his head with their thoughts. The static deepens to a hum. It sounds like cello but distorted, as if lightening were to play it. He knows that there’s someone in the room. There’s a pressure on his chest. Heavy. Will’s breath hitches. He forces his eyes open.  
“Everything alright?” Hannibal asks.  
Will clears his sleep tightened throat. “Umm, yeah. I must’ve dozed off.” His eyes focus and his full erection comes into view.  
“I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this,” Will spits out. He struggles to get his legs moving. Hannibal stops doing that delicious thing to the back of Will’s neck.  
“Where are you going, Will?”  
Will tries to ignore the warm throbbing and how good it feels to rub against the sheet. He knows that there will be a wet spot on the front of his boxers. His chest flushes. He can’t get up, not until Hannibal leaves. He hides his face in his hands and remains laying down.  
“Look, I know you’ve noticed my, what’s going on. And I’m really embarrassed. This whole thing is humiliating. I just want to be left alone.”  
“Your response is perfectly normal and quite frankly expected. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t allow this to ruin our work here. If you like we can talk until it passes.”  
Will sighs. “Okay,” he says. He decides to sit up, blocking Hannibal’s view.  
“We can talk about your upbringing. How’s your relationship with your mother?”  
Will huffs. “That’s some lazy psychiatry doctor. I can see why you retired.”  
“If you’d rather, we can discuss these nightmares you’ve been having, which I’m sure is related to whatever mess Jack has gotten you into.”  
“That certainly would be a boner kill,” Will says, regretting the words as soon as they are spoken.  
“I don’t know why I said that, it was inappropriate. I’m sorry.” His erection loses some confidence.  
Hannibal watches the muscles contract on Will’s back, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him. He refrains. For now.  
“You’re only making light of the situation, it’s fine. Trust me, I have had worse things said to me while working here.”  
Will whips his head around, stinging pain rings in his ears. “Seriously?”  
Hannibal nods.  
“That’s awful.”  
“People can be very rude. But they were banned.”  
Will rubs the side of his neck.  
“May we continue?” Hannibal asks.  
“Yeah, sure,” Will says.  
“Since you are already up, let’s have you lay face down so that I can work on your back.”


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Will clumsily turns over, kicking the leg bolster to the floor, and at one point getting on all fours to try to keep the covers from sliding to the floor. Hannibal relishes the sight. He wants to see Will like this again. But he wants him to be begging next time. His hair tousled, his face flushed, biceps flexing and, well those ill-fitting boxers will have to be replaced with something more form fitting. Will settles down and tries to adjust the blanket.  
“Allow me,” Hannibal says. He lifts both the sheet and the blanket from Will’s body, just a little, to fluff them so that they realign before tucking them under his body. He leaves the bolster where it has fallen.  
Hannibal oils his hands once more, then he firmly places them on Will’s shoulder blades. He presses down on Will. A thought flutters up from Will’s belly, what would it feel like to be restrained by Hannibal? To be held down by him? Will nestles his face further into the pillow rest and pushes those thoughts away. Which is proving difficult to do when Hannibal’s hands are roaming all over Will’s back in such a way that it feels like he has two sets of hands. It feels like magic. Hannibal proceeds to massage Will’s lower back, producing a reassured sigh from Will.  
“That’s good, Will. Relax into my touch. It’s going to get difficult once I start on your locked trapezius. Let me know if the pain is too much.”  
Hannibal works his way back up to Will’s shoulders and starts to focus on the muscle clump. He feels Will tense under his fingers.  
“Rest your shoulders. Allow me to dig into those fibers. The pain will pass.”  
Will releases his shoulders a little. Searing pain burns up the side of his neck, radiating all the way up to his temple. He tries to relax a little more. The pain eases some. Hannibal can feel the contraction beginning to release. So, Hannibal switches to the other trap to give Will a break. But also, to prolong his appointment. Hannibal continues to work everywhere else on Will’s back for some time.  
“Okay Will, we are going to get this muscle to release. Focus on your breathing.” Hannibal digs in. Some of the surrounding fibers unlock instantly, but one stubborn clump refuses to submit.  
Will holds his breath against the pain.  
“Breath,” Hannibal commands.  
Will exhales, tears gather in his eyes.  
“Sometimes these knots are more emotional than physical.”  
“Which means?” Will asks.  
“Meaning that they will never fully release unless you give voice to the emotions trapped inside.”  
Will laughs. “That sounds a lot like bullshit to me.”  
Hannibal stops working for a moment, his hands still, resting on Will’s back. Will feels disappointed in himself.  
“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”  
“Forgiven,” Hannibal says, resuming his movements. He kneads roughly into the inflamed muscle.  
“Ahhh,” Will groans. “Okay, okay, we’ll try it your way.”  
“Tell me Will, what was the case that did this to you, is it the same one that’s haunting your dreams?”  
Will doesn’t even have to think about it.  
“The cellist.”  
Hannibal is familiar with the case, a man turned people into instruments that he could play. Very clever. But very grisly tableaus for someone like Will.  
“Even though you helped apprehend him, he’s still pursing you in your dreams.”  
“Yeah, something like that.” Will doesn’t want to give in to Hannibal’s persistent need to talk about his dreams. Especially after revealing that he was a practicing psychiatrist.  
“Tell me about these dreams.”  
Will sighs. “Are you going to psychoanalyze me, doctor?’  
“Not at all, that would be unethical. We’re only having conversations. I find that talking about things that frighten you, especially dreams, shines a light on them. Often revealing that sinister figure at the foot of your bed to be nothing more than a sloppy pile of clothes in a dark corner.”  
Will gets the hint about the state that he left he clothes on the chair. Hannibal doesn’t like mess.  
Will thinks quickly about whether he should heavily redact his dream or lie all together. He isn’t dreaming about being pursued by Tobias Budge. That isn’t scary. No, Will is dreaming that he is Tobias. But that still isn’t what scares him. It’s the relief that Will feels. That he’s finally become what he has always meant to be, that he has fulfilled a desire of his that he refused to acknowledge. And he feels righteous and invincible. Who in their right mind would say that they enjoyed these dreams about killing people out loud to another person? What would that make him? What if this all got back to Jack?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you about this reoccurring dream that I have about my sister and if your contraction doesn’t release by the time I’m finished then you’ll tell me about your dream.”  
Will considers this. “Okay,” he says.  
“I should preface this dream with some background history first. My sister died as a young child shortly after both of our parents died. I was very close to her. As her older brother, I felt very protective of her. Her death felt like I failed her, that it was my fault.”  
Hannibal can feel Will’s breath hitch in his chest with sympathy. He eases Will’s discomfort with his hands.  
“In my dream we are huddled around a fire that I built inside our barn. It’s cold. We are smudged with dirt and neither of us have shoes. Mischa’s hunger has driven her to tears that streak down her cheeks. She looks so small and pitiful. I decide to leave her alone in the barn to forage for food in the woods. The air smells like ash and has a grey quality to it. The trees are dense and the path winds aimlessly. I hear a twig snap. I turn to see a huge black creature, almost stag like but it has feathers. I have nothing to defend myself with and I’m scared that it will kill me. I run back to the barn, back to Mischa and the warm comfort of the fire. The doors are open. I can feel myself start to panic. I walk further inside. The fire is out but still smoldering. I can see something thin and black with it’s back turned to me. It’s hunched over so that its spine juts out from under shiny skin. It slowly turns to face me, standing upright. It must be seven feet tall. It has a man’s emaciated body, skin stretched over bones. But sprouting from his head are an impressive crown of antlers. Bits of my sister hang from his mouth, some of her is impaled on his antlers. I feel this rage well up from deep in my belly. I scream at him. He doesn’t cower. Instead he extends some of her flesh to me. I feel my hunger throb. Time slows now as I step forward and lean my head down to his long claw like fingers. I take her flesh into my mouth directly from his hand. And she’s the most delicious thing that I have ever eaten.”  
They let the silence loom between them. Will doesn’t know how to respond. What do you say to something like that? Will knows he can’t offer any insight that Hannibal hasn’t already thought about. He feels grateful that Hannibal shared something so personal with him.  
Will clears his throat. “Survivor’s remorse,” he finally says.  
“Yes, very much so. It seems that your shoulder is still in contraction. So now it’s your turn to let me see your dreams.”  
Will swallows. He wonders how long he’s been in here. Certainly, feels like more than an hour. He hopes for an alarm to start beeping to signify that their time is up. Silence.  
“There’s, umm, there’s a spotlight on a chair sat in the middle of a stage in an empty theater.” He pauses to gain more confidence.  
“I’m in the front row. The curtain closes and then slowly reopens. Now there’s a man in the chair. His stomach is hollowed out and he looks like a crude upright bass. And I hear this sound, the sound that his death makes and it,” his teeth chatter as Will shivers. He lets out a shaky breath, unsure if he can continue.  
“What does that feel like?” Hannibal asks.  
Will waits. He doesn’t know if he can put his feelings into words. “I feel this surge of joy, this happiness like I’m bursting from a cocoon and I’m finally in my skin. I close my eyes. When I open them again, I realize that I’m the musician pulling this sound from my instrument. I feel proud and righteous. I look down again at my work. It’s me. I’ve become the instrument that I’m playing. My skin is pale and grey. My eyes have a thin film over them. But I can still feel. And I miss the pieces of me that are strewn across the stage. I feel empty. There’re flies in my ears, burrowing their way into my head. I wake up drenched in sweat, panting.”  
Will leaves out the part where his hand is down his pants, massaging himself. His erection too painful to be ignored. And the shame he feels in the shower while he cleans himself off.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hannibal doesn’t say anything, not wanting to spoil this tense feeling in the room. He keeps pulling at the stubborn muscle. The fibers start to loosen. Then they suddenly release. He smooths his hands across Will’s inflamed skin. Will feels it happen, an odd feeling of an electrical rushing and then hot pain. He remembers to breath through it. Relief settles in. Will sighs the sweetest sigh of calm.  
“Holy shit! You did it. Thank you.” Will smiles broadly at the floor.  
“It was a team effort.” Hannibal retrieves a warm towel from the steamer and wipes down Will’s skin.  
“I will fetch you some water. You may get dressed in the meantime.” Hannibal pulls the covers up and pats Will on the shoulder.  
Will gets up slowly after he hears the door shut. He feels dizzy from the extra blood flow. He glances at the clock and realizes that he’s been here for over two hours. Will grimaces thinking about the bill even though he still wants to give Hannibal a generous tip. He layers up quickly, catching a glimpse of his hair in the mirror. He does his best to smooth it down. He rubs at the red pillow bite marks across his forehead and cheeks to no avail. There’s a light knock at the door. Will straightens up.  
“Come in,” he calls out.  
Hannibal comes in the room with a smile and a chilled water bottle. He hands the water to Will before closing the door.  
“Thank you,” Will says.  
Hannibal nods. “You may feel sore tomorrow. Ice does wonders for inflammation. As does ibuprofen. Keep hydrated. And some light stretching will keep everything loose.”  
Will smiles a little. “Thank you so much, Hannibal.” He likes the way his name feels in his mouth.  
“You’re quite welcome, Will.” He turns to open the door but stops. “Oh and I must insist that you take the rest of the day off. I’m afraid one sentence from Jack will undo all of our work.”  
Will smirks. “If you insist, doctor. Oh, umm,” Will reaches for his wallet. “How much do I owe you? I know that was at least two hours of massage therapy plus the hour or so of psychiatry.”  
“No need. We bill your department monthly.”  
“Well can I at least tip you? You must’ve lost at least one client because I was here for so long.”  
“I never leave a job half finished.”  
Will lets his hand drop to his side. “Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you.” He says dejectedly.  
“If you really feel that you must repay me, there is one thing that you can do.”  
Will feels his heart pick up it’s pace. His throat clenches.  
“Join me for dinner tonight at my home. Cooking is a favorite hobby of mine and I enjoy sharing. I can make anything you like, or I can surprise you.”  
Will holds his breath for a moment. He’s never been asked to dinner before by a man. Is this a date? If he accepts, what does that mean? Will pushes these thoughts away. He doesn’t have to analyze this now. He doesn’t have to acknowledge the feelings Hannibal is stirring inside him.  
“If I supply the meat, will you cook it?” Will asks. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.  
Hannibal’s eyes glimmer with possibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure if I'm going to write a sequel to this or not which would center around their dinner together....


End file.
